I am very pleased to announce that I have revived my hat.
Before I had even emptied the dogs this morning, I dashed round to the Co-op and purchased a noxious chemical in a reassuringly pink and white tub, which promised to Restore Gleaming Whiteness To Your Garments.
Working on the certainty that I could not possibly be in a worse hatless-position than I am at the moment, I dunked the poor grey hat in the sink, covered it in the said noxious chemical, and scrubbed hard.
The result might have been better if I had washed the scrubbing brush first, because I realised only too late that its previous task had been to scrub out the greasy dog bowls, but even despite that, it has restored some colour brilliance to my ancient hat. Goodness alone knows what it has done to the water table, it took away my fingerprints and so my phone would not work for ages, but it has certainly made a difference to my hat. It is not exactly Gleaming, but it has managed Moderately Respectable On A Sensible Budget, which is good enough for me.
I pegged it outside on the washing line, having decided that the King is unlikely to get sufficiently close to notice the moth holes, and I think it will do very nicely. I even resisted the temptation to cheer it up with the stuffed peacock out of the Christmas decoration box, more because it is stashed away in some dark and difficult to reach corner of the loft than from any motivations of tastefulness. I have wondered whether I ought to sew some sequins or some little bells over the moth holes, which would brighten it up quite a bit, and I have got both items of haberdashery easily to hand in my button jar, I will consider it if I find the time hanging heavily on my hands over the next few days.
Hence I think I that my hat difficulty has been resolved, which is just as well, because the only new hat that I actually liked cost sixty four quid plus postage, which I thought was a very lot just to look dignified, although it was almost exactly like the beautiful hats once worn by the dear late Queen, and would have made me feel thoroughly middle-class. This hat is not really a middle class hat. It is an aspirational hat to be worn by a peasant on a tight budget, but it will do.
I have also deposited my jacket with the dry cleaner, also even before I emptied the dogs, although this did not matter because wicked Rosie had accidentally emptied herself on the kitchen floor in the night already. We knew that it had been Rosie, because she was hiding under Oliver’s bed. She would not come out, and had to be hauled out and banished to the yard to serve out her disgrace, which provided a handy opportunity for me to belt round to the dry cleaner instead of tugging my boots on to go up the fell.
It is very lovely indeed to be able to walk again, and I have missed it during our recent week of extravagances. Everywhere is very green now. The hawthorn blossom has faded and tumbled, the tadpoles have become fat and sleek, and the foxgloves have shot tall spikes upwards. I walked, and looked, and felt at peace with my world, and even better, when I got back Oliver and Mark had both gone out to collect my taxi from the MOT station and remedy its various deficiencies, and so I could get on with watering the conservatory and mopping the kitchen without needing to trouble myself about tiresome oily footprints.
The car passed, so we have got two legal taxis again, and they have commenced welding up some of the leakier bits of Oliver’s car, so that will be a Good Thing as well. Mark has been to the scrapyard and purchased some new wheels for his trailer, and is hopeful that he will be able to collect the new camper van axle on Saturday.
I will be very pleased about that.
I am missing the poor camper van very much.
